


Problematic Fave

by katrinawritesthings



Series: Problematic Fave au [1]
Category: SHINee
Genre: Brotp, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-15 23:03:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13623351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katrinawritesthings/pseuds/katrinawritesthings
Summary: yall listen,,, celeb/fan auTaemin shuffles forward in line steadily, tries his best to calm his breathing, gets his stuff checked by the security, and is literally the next person in line to meet Jonghyun when he realizes that he forgot to put on deodorant that morning.tumblr





	1. Chapter 1

_Jonghyun, **  
**_

_Hey!! Taemin again. I’m out in my garden writing this right now and it’s really a lovely day. I know you don’t like the sun much but I feel like you could sit in the shade here and really appreciate it. I’m gonna attach a picture for you to see!!_

_I wanted to tell you that I was listening to Blue Night on Tuesday and what you said about your Roo made me laugh. I used to have two dogs, Adam and Eve, and they would both come and sleep with me too. Listening to you talking about it made me feel all nostalgic._

_Another thing about Blue Night--I know I’ve told you this before, and almost every week, but you being openly and vocally out of the closet means… so much to me. I still haven’t come out to anyone but my closest friend, but hearing you speaking about your experiences, or, just, speaking casually about past boyfriends, or joking about being ace, makes me feel normal. You confirming your own experiences with your orientations makes me feel more valid in my own gayness, my own aceness, and even my demi romanticism. You give me the confidence to use the labels on myself, and the confidence to know that I’m not faking or making it up._

_Thank you, for the millionth time, for being the demi to my aro, by the way, even though you didn’t do it on purpose. I don’t think I could have picked a better person to have fallen in love with, even though I know we’ll never really happen, and even though I know I don’t really know the “real” you. It’s just fun to dream about. Thank you._

_Oh, another thing--I really do love and admire you, but lately, you’ve been using some cissexist language? I know it’s what you grew up hearing and whatnot, but I also know you’ve been trying to unlearn as much as you can. Can you work on not equating things like genitals or features to genders? Not linking menstruation and estrogen to women, beards and peens to men, etc. The other night you said you said you supported more menstrual health stuff for women, which is good, but I’m not a woman and I need it too. It made me feel left out and invisible, you know? Like you didn’t support me, or like I don’t exist. Little things like this build up over time and it gets really draining. Please try changing your language!!_

_Anyway, I just remembered something else about my friend Key’s dogs that I think you would like to hear. They’re two little toy poodles. Sometimes Key puts them in little jeans and lets them walk around like that. I think it looks ridiculous, but Key loves it and always sends me pictures. I’ll attach one as well so you can see._

_This is getting kind of long, so I’ll stop here for this week. I’m really looking forward to your album next week and I hope you have a wonderful day!!_

_Love, Lee Taemin ❤_

Taemin bites his lip as he trails his fingers lightly over the touchpad of his laptop. He thinks… he’s good. This is revision number he-doesn’t-know-how-many for this week’s letter and he thinks he’s finally got the version that he’s going to handwrite down on his cute pale blue binder paper like usual. He feels his left eye scrunching up when he reaches the part about cissexism, but he takes a deep breath and guides himself through his usual quick relaxation exercise. He’s only feeling anxious about that because talking about trans justice stuff in general makes him feel anxious, not because it’s written poorly. He hovers the cursor over the little heart for a second and smiles. Yeah. This is good.

He takes a sip of his ice water before he tugs out his Jonghyun folder, the one where he keeps his blue paper and strawberry-scented pink envelopes and just barely glittery pink pen. Not enough to be obnoxious, but just enough to add a faint shimmer to his words. He gets to work copying down his letter, taking care to write extra neatly and make sure everything is clear. When he’s done, he folds it up carefully and slips it into a pretty envelope. Printing his address and then Jonghyun’s on the front, he puts the pen down and smiles proudly at his work. It’s fucking adorable. He’s not entirely convinced that Jonghyun even reads these with all of the other fanmail that he gets, but at least his stand out by being cute as heckie and smelling fantastic.

Grabbing his phone, he takes a few pictures of his tiny backyard like he said he would, then sends the best one and some pictures of Key’s dogs to his wireless printer inside. He wonders if his mother knows that the only time he ever uses her present is to print out pictures to send to his celebrity crush. He thinks it’s worth it.

He’ll go back inside and get them later; for now, he tucks the envelope back into the folder so it doesn’t get dirty and picks up his ice water again to sip the rest of it. He smiles out at his little lawn, his small bunch of snapdragons, his row of mixed flowers, his tiny tangerine tree. Today is a good day.

~

_Jonghyun,_

_Hey hey!! Taemin again. Today I’m writing at my kitchen table while I wait for the glue on some some DIY bows to dry. I got a few cute vases at the thrift store the other day so I’m putting together some bouquets from my garden. I’ll take some pictures when I’m done so you can see._

_More importantly, I love your new album!!!! “Love Belt” is my favorite song. It’s so soft, so sweet, and it makes me feel like I’m floating and safe. The beat is slow and calm and your voice suits the feel of is so well. Younha also sounds wonderful. You compliment her so well, and the way you sigh out the notes is amazing. The English lyrics are really_

_More importantly, I love your new album!!!! “Love Belt” is my favorite song. It’s soft, sweet, and it makes me feel like I’m floating and safe. You and Younha sound wonderful together and I’m glad you were able to collab with another singer that you admire. The lyrics are so caring and  
More importantly, I love your new album!!!! “Love Belt” is my favorite song. It’s soft and sweet and it makes me feel like I’m safe. I’m glad you and Younha were able to do so well in a collab. I really love the part where it goes quiet and then you hit that high note and_

_More importantly, I love your new album!!!!_

_More importantly, I love your new album!_

_!!!!_

_!!_

_!!!_

_!_

_fuck_

_!!!_

_More import_

The sudden noise of his phone vibrating on the table startles Taemin out of his typing. Oh. Thank fuck. He wasn’t getting anywhere with that. This isn’t an essay about how much he loves one song; it’s a letter to his fave. He thinks when he tries writing again he’ll do it without “Love Belt” playing on repeat in his headphones. That will probably help. He just loves it so much. He wants speakers installed into his grave so he can listen to it while he’s fighting in the skeleton war. Or while he’s chilling in Heaven. Whichever one actually comes true.

He grabs his phone to see who texted him; it’s Key, and he hums curiously as he opens the text. Several texts, actually; he may or may not have not felt like checking them earlier. Key’s texts always pile up and he doesn’t exactly have the energy to reply to all of them.

They’re just the usual shit: “Good morning egghead,” “Do you want me to save you a muffin for later,” “This asshole just almost let their dog shit right in front of my apartment,” “I ate your muffin,” “Should i wear that black skirt with fishnets or those studded red skinnies,” and “What’s the name of that one song your fake boyfriend did with zion t?? it was good.”

Taemin shrugs at all of them. It’s passed noon, he’s kind of bummed he missed out on the muffin but it’s too late for redemption, he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say about the anus with the dog, and he’s sure Key has already decided on their outfit. Taemin taps the reply box to text him that the song is called “Deja Boo,” but before he can finish, the phone vibrates in his hand and another text shows up.

“They posted the fansign raffle winners btw,” it says, and Taemin takes in a short, excited breath.

“Holy shit,” he breathes softly, a little bit too dramatically, letting it out slow. He never gets into the fansigns, but he always fills the little form out anyway just for the chance. He tells Key the name of the song quickly and then turns back to his laptop to find the list of winners. He only bought one album; next to all of the people that bought anywhere from too many to way too fucking many, he never really has a chance. Scrolling through the list halfheartedly, he sighs at all the names. He’s probably not in here. He hits the command to search the page anyway, typing in his phone number in case someone else with the same name won instead. He’s not expecting any--

“ _Holy shit,_ ” he hisses. He grips the screen of his laptop and yanks it closer to himself to squint at the little name on the list. That’s--that’s his name. His phone number. His birthday. That’s _him._  On the list of people allowed to go to the fansign. To see Jonghyun. Next week. That is _literally fucking him._

“Holy  _fucking_  shit!” He says loudly. Outside, a bird flaps away from his windowsill; inside, Taemin stands up, tugs his blonde hair, and paces around his living room, repeating those three words to himself over and over until he stumbles into his couch and curls up there for the next hour.

~

_Jonghyun,_

_Hey!! Taemin again. Sorry if this letter seems a little shaky or sloppy. I’ve been excited and anxious about meeting you in person at the fansign all week. It’s my first one!! I still can’t believe it. I’m going to give you this letter in person and everything._

_Honestly, I’m absolute trash at talking to people unless I’m really comfortable with them, and even that’s when I’m relaxed in every other aspect. I’m not sure I’ll even be able to say anything at all when I’m in front of you, so I’m writing I want to say to you there here, just in case._

_Basically, it’s three things:_

_1\. You inspire me, you give me motivation and compel me to do my best and even to get out of bed in the mornings sometimes._

_2\. I’ve told you this a million times, but your existence as an openly out celebrity means so much to me in terms of representation and sentiment. Thank you, thank you, thank you._

_3\. I love you._

_I’m going to cut this letter short here. Sorry, but I’m not the best at writing these on the best of days when I have lots of time and right now it’s the night before your fansign and I can barely make my hand write without shaking. I know I’ve forgotten stuff but I’ll just write it in my next letter. I’m really looking forward to meeting you now, and I hope when we do meet I’m at least cute, if not coordinated._

_Love, Lee Taemin ❤_

_Oh, P.S.: Key told me to tell you their dogs like your “2:34” song. I do too. They gave me a picture of them listening to it to give to you._

Taemin’s leg bounces against the leg of the seat in front of him. The fingers of one hand tap restlessly against his arm and it’s taking all of his concentration to keep the fingers of his other hand from doing the same on Jonghyun’s album. He already smudged the corner of it a little bit by accident earlier in his nervousness. He can see Jonghyun, right now, in the same room as him, just four rows away and up on the little stage where his table is set up at. He can hardly fucking believe it.

He’s going through a mild anxiety attack right now; nothing too serious, but enough to feel and know that it’s happening. It’s the kind that he experienced every time he entered his fourth period literature class in tenth grade: a slow, steady burn at the back of his head and every exhale accompanied by a slight shake. He’s just glad that this time it’s caused by the love of his life instead of the worst teacher on the planet.

Jonghyun looks so fucking gorgeous in person.

Taemin should be rehearsing what he wants to say to Jonghyun when he gets up there, but all he can remember is what he wrote down in the letter, word for word. Maybe he should have written down what he wanted to say this morning. He doesn’t notice that the seat in front of him has been filled again until the person turns and frowns at him, asking him to stop kicking their chair; he blinks, blushes, and apologizes quickly, taking his foot away. Then, he doesn’t notice that the row in front of him being back means that it’s  _his_  row’s turn to go up until the person next to him taps his shoulder. He hisses and stands up immediately, apologizing again and scuttling to catch up to the line.

Holy shit. Holy shit holy shit, this is it. He’s  _minutes_  away from seeing Jonghyun face to face for the first time. His speech and his letter fly completely out of his mind and all he can do is look up at the stage where, if he leans just right, he can see Jonghyun smiling a gorgeous smile at a fan as he hands them their album back.

Taemin shuffles forward in line steadily, tries his best to calm his breathing, gets his stuff checked by the security, and is literally the next person in line to meet Jonghyun when he realizes that he forgot to put on deodorant that morning.

Before he even has time to hiss out a sharp curse, the person in front of him is leaving and his feet are automatically stepping forward to the table. Jonghyun smiles pleasantly up at him, pink lips, cute round nose, deep brown eyes, gorgeous tan skin. Taemin breathes out a heavy breath that he really hopes Jonghyun didn’t hear.

“Hello,” Jonghyun says, his voice charming and warm. Taemin doesn’t know what to say or what to do or even how to make himself do anything right now, but some part of his brain must remember, because he feels his hands moving without meaning them too.

“H-hi,” he stammers. His hands shake as he lowers his album in front of Jonghyun. He wants to thank his brain for absorbing the crushing pressure of the multiple oppressions he’s faced all of his life and conditioning him to default to a smile when under pressure, but he doesn’t think right now is the best time to start talking to himself. He should be talking to Jonghyun instead. “Um,” he says. “Sorry, just. I’m a little--just--” Jonghyun is smiling patiently at him, letting him take his time as he reaches for the album to sign. Taemin is glad he left a postie-note in there so Jonghyun knows to turn to to sign the right picture, the one of him standing by the potted plant in the red plaid jacket. “Just. I’m really really thankful for you, and. You make me, like--oh, uh, sorry, that’s--” He fumbles awkwardly to catch the letter that fell out of the album when Jonghyun picked it up to close it. Fuck. He meant to take that out before he got up here. “It’s another letter, um--”

“Oh,” Jonghyun exclaims then, taking the letter gently. His lips curve into a wide smile as he looks back up. “You’re Taeminnie?”

“I--” Taemin swallows thickly. Holy shit. Jonghyun knows his name? “Yes. How did, um. How did you…?”

“I love your letters,” Jonghyun says, wiggling the pink little envelope. “They’re some of my favorites. You’re very well-educated on issues and I’m glad I’ve been able to bring you so much comfort.”

“Oh,” Taemin says, a heavy whoosh of breath. “Thank you.” Jonghyun hands him back his album with a gentle wish of a nice day. Taemin watches him turn and sniff the envelope quickly, then put it to the side of his pile of gifts himself, a little bit away from everything else, before one of the security guards gently ushers him away and off the stage. Taemin walks in a daze, his legs carrying him back to his seat. When he falls into the chair, he curls his fingers around the edges of his album and stares blankly down at it. He doesn’t even open it to look at Jonghyun’s signature. He can’t seem to catch and hold on to a single thought in his brain, but as he sits there, things come back to him in bits and pieces.

Jonghyun signed his album. He was soothing and patient. He didn’t get mad at Taemin for fumbling his words. Jonghyun knew who Taemin was. He reads his letters. He _loves_  his letters. Jonghyun thinks he’s well educated and likes the strawberry scent.

Jonghyun calls him _Taeminnie._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wiggles himself comfortable on Jonghyun’s dressing room couch, pulling out his phone so he can first let Jonghyun know that they’ve migrated and then to try to stream the concert since there’s no tv in here. It’s quiet for a little bit as Taemin struggles to get service; when his phone denies him, he sighs and resolves to just listen to Jonghyun’s sweet voice through the walls instead.
> 
> also tw for a lil alcohol  
> [tumblr](http://katrinawritesthings.tumblr.com/post/170947798444/jonghyuntaemin-problematic-fave-part-24-pg)

_To: Taeminnie **  
**_

_Hi! I thought I would start writing back to all of your letters. They won’t be as long as yours because I’m super busy and not that great with written words unless they’re in a song, hehe._

_Thanks for coming to my fansign! I’m glad I got to finally meet you. I read your letter and laughed because we both had things we didn’t get to say that day. I wanted to thank you for telling me about my cisseixm in your last letter, and, well, every other thing you’ve corrected me on in your writings. It’s important to me that I always keep learning and becoming better so I’m glad that you’re brave enough to tell me when I mess up. I’m working on it, I promise!_

_Yours, Jonghyun ✨_

_To: Taeminnie_

_Hi! I thought I would start writing back to all of your letters. They won’t be as long as yours because I’m super busy and not that great with written words unless they’re in a song, hehe._

_Thanks for coming to my fansign! I’m glad I got to finally meet you. I read your letter and laughed because we both had things we didn’t get to say that day. I wanted to thank you for telling me about my cisseixm in your last letter, and, well, every other thing you’ve corrected me on in your writings. It’s important to me that I always keep learning and becoming better so I’m glad that you’re brave enough to tell me when I mess up. I’m working on it, I promise!_

_Yours, Jonghyun ✨_

_To: Taeminnie_

_Hi! I thought I would start writing back to all of your letters. They won’t be as long as yours because I’m super busy and not--_

Taemin is interrupted in what’s probably the hundredth time he’s reread this letter by the ding of his dryer next to him. He starts in his little bundle of cooling clothes. Frick. Reaching up to gently place the letter on top of his dryer, he picks up all of the clothes he dumped on himself from the last load and lays them nicely into his basket on top of the ones already in there. Then he opens up the dryer and takes all of the freshly warm clothes out and lays them over himself again, sighing contentedly at their warmth and smelling their clean smell. Once he closes the door, he reaches back up for the letter to reread it another fifty times. The folding part of the laundry can wait.

He still isn’t sure it’s real, to be honest. The wide ruled binder paper, the plain envelope with a puppy sticker holding it closed, the messiness of Jonghyun’s casual handwriting, the faint, faint, faint impression of an autograph underneath it, like Jonghyun signed something on the paper on top of it before he went on to write the letter. The way the holes on the side of the paper are broken like Jonghyun ripped it out of the binder instead of taking it out the slow way. How the little sparkle after his name is hand-drawn in yellow glitter pen with one tiny smudge out of line. How he doesn’t pick the pen all the way up when he dots his i’s and crosses his t’s so there’s the faintest trail of ink between the strokes.  _Taeminnie._

Taemin thinks he’s studied every single detail of this piece of paper in his hands, but every time he looks at it he finds something new. And every time he looks at it, he feels his heart thud longingly in his chest. He’s so in love. That Jonghyun reads his letters, that’s he’s read them all this whole time, that he _listens_  to Taemin, that just meeting him once for less than a minute was enough for him to want to write back…. Taemin lowers the letter gently before he lifts his hands to run his fingers through his hair for the millionth time. He thinks he wants to get this framed.

He should probably send a reply first, though, and to do that he has to finish this laundry. He picks up the letter again and tugs a hand towel up to tuck under his chin instead. A few more reads won’t hurt.

~

_To: Taeminnie_

_Hi! First, I wanted to thank you for telling me that word I used on Star King last week was wrong. As soon as the episode came out I found out from everyone else ever online, but you taking the time to tell me still means a lot. I’m sorry to have disappointed you and I’m working on getting it out of my vocabulary as soon as possible._

_Second, that was you I saw in the audience for Hello Counselor yesterday, right? In the third row, with that blue headband right next to one of the guests. You looked very cute. Thanks for coming to see me again for my repackage! I know you said you didn’t like crowds, but I’m glad you got the chance to see me again after the fansign a few months ago._

_Third, I wanted to apologize again. Every week you thank me for existing for you to love, but…. I’m sorry for being the demi to your aro. You’re a really good person, and I wish you could have what you want, but we both know that it would be wrong for me as a celebrity to let you. I have too much power, you idolize me too much… it wouldn’t be right. I know you know this already, and have never realistically wanted it to happen, but I still feel like I should apologize. You deserve to have your dreams come true and I’m sorry that I’m a dream that can’t._

_If you haven’t already bought one, I can send you one of my albums for free, if you’d like._

_Yours, Jonghyun✨_

Taemin isn’t really reading this letter as it rests over his face. He already read it enough times. He’s just thinking about it as he lies on his living room floor, the words right in front of his eyes blurry and out of focus. He sighs every so often, so that the bottom of the letter flutters over his mouth. He really shouldn’t have dropped it on top of him like this. The bottom is probably getting all moist from his breath.

He’s not… disappointed, necessarily, by what Jonghyun has told him. Not sad, not regretful. Jonghyun is right. His celebrity status does throw whatever consent Taemin would give into questionable light at best, and Taemin does have him up on too high of a pedestal, despite how he tries to humanize him as much as possible in his brain. And Taemin did already know all of this. There’s nothing to really be upset about, and yet, here he is, feeling upset about something.

Blowing lightly until the letter flutters off of his face, Taemin turns to curl up on his side. He’s feeling some kind of way that he doesn’t know how to describe. He picks up the letter again and scans it; the apology, the thanks, the second apology, the album offer. It’s all so simple. So straightforward. So professional. So just like all of his other letters over the passed few months.

The apology for using that slur the other day is golden. No trying to push blame away, no trying to explain that he didn’t mean it, just an acknowledgement and a promise to do better. That’s so good. So wonderful. So sweet. So perfect. So-- _decent_ , Taemin tells himself. Not using slurs is a basic and decent standard and he can’t praise Jonghyun for doing what he should be doing. He doesn’t get a cookie for not being trash.

Taemin quirks a smile when he rereads the second paragraph. That  _was_  him in the audience, third row, with his blue headband, looking very cute. He got the ticket from a giveaway by someone who had to suddenly leave town on short notice. The crowds did make him feel cramped and stuffy, but it was worth it for the few seconds that Jonghyun took to absentmindedly scan the crowd, do a doubletake, and smile softly in his direction. His heart flutters just remembering it. He’s  _so_  in love.

Which brings him back to the third part, and also back to a heavy sigh. Jonghyun shouldn’t have to apologize. Taemin shouldn’t have made him feel like he had to apologize. Maybe he was a little heavy with the “I love you”s. He was never doing them to make Jonghyun feel guilty about it, or in the hopes of getting one back, but obviously that’s what happened anyway. Apparently they’re both having the same problem because now he wants to apologize for making Jonghyun apologize. He groans quietly and rolls over to his stomach. He bets he wouldn’t feel half as gross about this if he wasn’t going to start his period soon. He wishes it just made him feel sleepy instead of emotional like it did back in high school.

He’s groaning some more, just to be extra dramatic because he finds that that helps him out with shit like this, when soft little clatters against his kitchen tile reach his ears. He frowns, confused, and then hisses, understanding, when Key’s two little dogs come pattering over to him on the carpet. Frick. He forgot they were napping in there. He lifts the arm with the letter immediately, just in time before they come nuzzling all over him and sniffling at his hand. He can’t stop the soft chuckle that escapes his lips as he wiggles closer to the couch to place the letter on the arm of it and they rise like they want to get up and then drop back down. This is probably the first time he’s appreciated Key’s no-dogs-on-the-furniture rule.

He flops to his back once the letter is safe and lets them climb all over him, fluffing them up and pushing them away gently when they try to lick at his face. Key should be back in another hour or so, he thinks, and they definitely won’t stand for Taemin lying on the floor and feeling sorry for himself. With a last heavy sigh, he pushes himself off of the floor and lets the dogs follow him into the backyard. He’ll figure out what to write back to Jonghyun later.

~

_To: Taeminnie_

_Ahh, I didn’t mean to make you apologize too! I want to apologize again, but I think that would start a cycle that neither of us would ever finish, so I won’t. I’m just glad we both understand each other._

_Thank you for the new pictures of your friend’s dogs! I’ll never get tired of them. They’re the cutest little beans!_

_I know you already have an album, and probably didn’t mean for me to do this when you told me your friend didn’t, but I signed one and sent it with this letter anyway for you to give to them. Hopefully they’ll like at least one song or maybe even become my fan, hehe._

_Also--you know my Agit concerts are coming up soon, right? Would you want a vip backstage pass to the second one? I usually get them for my mother and sister, but they’re both out of town that week. I would gladly let you come instead so we could talk more face-to-face, if you’re comfortable with that. If you’re not comfortable with coming alone, you can bring your friend Key also. And if you don’t want to at all, that’s fine. My fansite presidents already have tickets so I just thought I would offer._

_Yours, Jonghyun✨_

“Mmm… Key?” Taemin pouts, squeezing Key’s arm closer as he peeps around the crowded waiting room they’re in. Jonghyun is up on stage, up on the monitor in the corner, his actions on the screen a few seconds behind his voice floating in from outside. “Keyttyyy,” he whines, using his friend’s two-syllable nickname to really draw it out because they didn’t answer the first time. They’re absorbed in their phone, effortlessly ignoring the bustle of the other people filling the room. Taemin is really struggling to do that, even with Jonghyun’s gorgeous smile in front of him on the tv. He puts his chin on Key’s shoulder and opens his mouth to whine a third time when Key finally lowers their phone to look at him.

“What?” they ask, first reaching to fix Taemin’s bangs and then brush their own rainbow hair out of their face. Turned to him like this, they’re super close, so Taemin gives them the tiniest little friend kissie on the corner of their mouth before he goes back to his pouting.

“Can we go hide in his dressing room?” he asks, tugging lightly on Key’s sleeve. Key tsks, sighs, pats his cheek.

“Too many people?” they ask gently, and Taemin nods. He keeps catching people glancing at him. Or, more likely, glancing at Key’s colorful ass and not even noticing him, and it is better than when they were peeping at Jonghyun from the side of the stage, but still. He doesn’t like it.

“Jonghyun said we could, remember,” he says, pulling out his phone to quadruple check that the private twitter conversation him and his fave have had for the past few days does still have that message. It does: a short, “Glad you made it! Don’t worry about being late. I’ll just talk to you after. You and your friend can stay in my dressing room if you want. Security will know who you are.” He holds his phone up to show Key. “See?” he asks. Key glances at it.

“The text he sent you in the middle of his concert, yes,” they say, shaking their head as they stand up. “Super professional.”

“Okay, he was only on his phone for like, three seconds,” Taemin says. He knows. He was right here, on this couch, watching Jonghyun finishing up “Playboy” and introducing “Breathe.” Taemin sent the text, Jonghyun checked his phone, and a few seconds later he had that neat little reply. “He had it ready to go,” he says as he lets Key pull him up. “Because he knew he wouldn’t be able to take the time to type it out when we actually arrived. Which was clever. And sweet, and thoughtful, and--”

“And you are so far up his ass,” Key mutters. Taemin pouts as he fixes his jacket and avoids the gazes of the people that are looking at them now for standing up.

“Rude,” he mumbles. That’s not a _bad_  thing, necessarily. It gets him free albums and concert tickets and someone to love. Even if it does also make him go on dreamy monologues about how good and pure his fave is. He’s had three so far in the thirty minutes they’ve been there. They were all very fun, and also all gently stopped by Key. But still. “Maybe I  _like_  being up there,” he snoots.

“Up his ass?” Key snoots back, and Taemin blinks. Fuck. Wait. No. That’s not--Key is smirking at him. He huffs, grabs Key’s hand, and tugs them just far enough until they reach the hallway. Then he lets them lead, because he has no idea where to go and his take-charge skills are virtually nonexistent anyway. “He doesn’t even have an ass, to be honest,” Key says as they tug Taemin two doors down and to the one with a security guard just kind of hanging out in front of it. They share a quick exchange, Taemin keeping his eyes down and only shyly looking up to show the guard his vip card, before they’re let in with the door closed behind them.

“His butt is cute,” Taemin sighs as he flops down on the little couch by the door. He mouths Key’s “ _his butt is nonexistent_ ” to himself as Key says it out loud. They’ve had this conversation before. He wiggles himself comfortable on Jonghyun’s couch, pulling out his phone so he can first let Jonghyun know that they’ve migrated and then to try to stream the concert since there’s no tv in here. It’s quiet for a little bit as Taemin struggles to get service; when his phone denies him, he sighs and resolves to just listen to Jonghyun’s sweet voice through the walls instead.

“I knew he’d be a  _soft blanket_  kind of dude,” Key mutters after a minute. Taemin frowns at the ceiling.

“What?” he asks, turning to look at Key, and then, “Stop touching his shit, hey.” He wiggles off of the couch to scuttle over to Key and frown at them. Key huffs, but puts the scented candle back on the vanity anyway.

“You’re only not doing it because you already know exactly what he has anyway,” he says. Taemin blushes a faint pink and doesn’t protest. So maybe he’s watched that one “what’s in this celeb’s bag” cut with Jonghyun twenty times. So maybe he pauses videos sometimes just so he can squint at and analyze the shit in the background of Jonghyun’s room. That doesn’t mean he’s not curious. His hand twitches towards the second pocket of Jonghyun’s bag, curious as to whether or not he really always keeps some gum in there, but he snatches his hand away after half of a second.

“I’m not doing it because I’m not rude and nosy,” he says, shooing Key away from the desk. Key humphs haughtily at him but tugs him to the couch, pushing and pulling him to resume their earlier comfortable position. Taemin lets out a slow, contented sigh. This is good. Now all he has to do it sit here with his best friend, listening to Jonghyun’s wonderful voice and smelling the lingering scent of his perfume in the air. He gets to wait here in this wonderful comfort until his love returns from the stage.

And return he does; a little over twenty minutes later and Taemin is grinning wide even as Jonghyun is saying his goodbyes to the crowd. What a great fucking mini concert. Chill, soft, fun, _gorgeous_  with his voice. Taemin is extremely jealous that he couldn’t be in the crowd to see him in person, but only for a little bit before he remembers that he’s going to see him even closer and even more in person very soon. They’re even going to get a quick bite to eat with him after. His jealousy tones down a bit but still hovers around a mild amount because he does still wish he was able to experience Jonghyun in as many ways as possible.

The noise through the walls shifts from cheers and the murmurs of a faraway crowd to chatter and conversations of people just nearby. The thought that he should probably be at least sitting up straight when Jonghyun comes in enters Taemin’s head when he hears some people walking right passed the door to the room.

Almost immediately after, when he’s barely started to push himself up off of Key, the door opens with such suddenness that Taemin’s jump makes his friend almost drop their phone.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll see you there,” Jonghyun is saying, a wide grin on his face as he backs into the room. “Wednesday, right? Okay, yeah. Bye.” He pushes the door to just a crack open, turns with a heavy, elated breath, and grips the hem of his fuzzy sweater with a little giggle. He’s so fucking adorable.

Then he turns a fraction more, sees Taemin and Key on his couch, and jumps, startled.

_“Oh,”_  he exclaims, and then laughs, bringing a hand to rub the back of his neck. “Gosh, sorry, I forgot--I forgot to knock,” he says, gesturing at the door. “Um. Hi. Key, right?” He smiles wide and bows his head, stepping forward to take the hand Key offers to shake. Taemin offers just a wave instead; a wave and a smile that his brain provides for him because the presence of Jonghyun right in front of him has robbed him of his speaking ability again. He’s so… gorgeous. His fuzzy white sweater, his ripped jeans, his brown boots, his stud earrings, his styled blonde hair under an adorable burgundy hat, the gentleness of his face, of his smile… Taemin squeezes Key’s arm tightly. Holy shit.

“Hey,” Key says pleasantly when Taemin doesn’t say anything. “You sounded really good out there.” They nudge Taemin’s side gently. “He thought so too.”

“Yeah,” Taemin breathes. He’s glad his brain is focusing more on carrying him through the basics of functioning than on being embarrassed. Jonghyun’s smile grows flattered and he turns to sit at his vanity.

“Thanks,” he says, turning the chair to face them. He takes off his hat and puts it on top of his bag. “I had fun.” He half turns back to his mirror, glances back, shrugs a little sheepishly. “You don’t mind if I take off some of my makeup, right?” he asks. “Eyeliner always really bugs me when it’s hot.”

“Go for it,” Key shrugs, Taemin shaking his head next to them. He doesn’t want Jonghyun to be uncomfortable. Jonghyun gives them both a thumbs up. When he turns back around, he moves his chair so he can keep looking at them in the mirror.

“I love your dogs, by the way,” he tells Key. “I don’t know if Taeminnie’s told you.” For the first time, Taemin sees Key’s smile go from politely uninterested to genuinely pleased. They and Taemin speak at the same time: a “he has” from Key and a tiny “I have” from Taemin. They glance at each other while Jonghyun looks between the two of them in the mirror, and then all three of them are chuckling softly.

“I have more pictures of them if you wanna see,” Key says, pulling out their phone. Taemin groans. Ugh. Here they go.

_“Yes,_ ” Jonghyun hisses immediately, eyes widening under his makeup remover. Taemin sighs and falls dramatically to the side when Key gets up eagerly to grab a spare seat next to Jonghyun. A little later, he pulls himself up to stand behind Key and drape himself over their shoulders as they swipe through pictures.

“That’s,” he says, and then clears his throat when Jonghyun turns those gorgeous eyes on him. “That’s one of the ones I sent you, remember?” he asks softly. His voice isn’t back to it’s usual confidence yet but at least he can say full sentences now. He knows that’s part of the reason why Key decided to distract Jonghyun for a few minutes anyway and he’s thankful. Jonghyun nods, looking back at the phone fondly.

“When they were listening to 2:34?” he asks, and Taemin nods. He remembers.

“Did I tell you about how the next time I babysat them I let them listen to the whole album?”

“You what?” Key asks, frowning up at him. Taemin looks away guiltily. Shit. He forgot to tell Key that he’s been trying to convert their dogs from punky pop to Jonghyun’s stuff.

“Look at this next picture, wow,” he says quickly, reaching to tap Key’s phone himself. Key shakes their head with a slow sigh, Jonghyun laughs softly as he reblends his foundation around his eyes, and Taemin smiles at both of them.

After three more dog pictures, there’s a knock on Jonghyun’s door; Jonghyun leans back and calls out a “yeah” while Taemin stands up straight.

“Hey, nerd, are you ready yet?” a voice says as the door pushes open. When Taemin sees who it is, he blinks in surprise. That’s Amber. Like,  _the_  Amber. Huh. Cool. He waves slightly and she notices him and Key, blinking in surprise as well. “Oh,” she says, a friendly smile coming up on her lips. “Hey.” She turns back to Jonghyun. “Are those two the ones you said you invited to smoothies with us?” she asks. Jonghyun nods, giving them a quick glance too.

“Yeah,” he says. “We’ll be out soon, sorry, we got kind of… distracted,” he says, fluffing the hair at the back of his head awkwardly. Taemin snorts. Distracted. Sure. “We’ll meet you at the cafe?” Jonghyun offers. Amber shrugs, nods, waves at all three of them and leaves. Taemin watches her close the door behind her fondly. She's shorter than he’d thought. “Sorry,” Jonghyun says then, and Taemin looks back to him. “Dogs are my weakness,” he shrugs, and stands up out of his chair. He grabs his hat, grabs his bag, stretches towards the ceiling for a second, and exhales happily. “Ready?” he asks, and Taemin nods, and then looks down at Key.

Key is still sitting in their chair, staring at the closed door, mouth hanging slightly open. Taemin frowns.

“Uh. Babe?” he asks, poking Key’s cheek. Key blinks slowly, swallows, looks up at him.

“That was Amber,” they whisper. Taemin nods.

“Um,” he says, and then he remembers. “ _Oh,_ ” he says. “Oh, frick.” He brings his hand up to muffle giggles as Key continues to look like their soul has left their body. At least now he can stop wondering how he looks around Jonghyun. “I mean,” he says. “I told you we were going to get snacks with some of his friends.”

_“Yeah, but-_ -” Key hisses, and then takes a deep breath. They stand up, sit back down, rummage in their bag for their little compact and flip the mirror open. “Oh my fucking god,” they hiss. “That’s not--why didn’t you tell me  _your_  fave was friends with  _my_  fave, oh my fucking god, I don’t even have--my fucking glittery eyeliner, fuck--”

“I thought you knew,” Taemin says, shrugging wildly. How could they have not known, with the pair of them posting pictures with each other all the time? Key just whines at him and rummages in their bag for any kind of eyeliner pencil. Taemin sighs and pets their hair gently. Looking up at Jonghyun, he grins at his amused little smile. “And they give  _me_  crap for being in love with you,” he says. Jonghyun’s laughter at his joke makes his heart soar.

~

_Jonghyun,_

_Hey!! Taemin again. I’m in my backyard writing this today!! It rained a little bit earlier, but it’s cleared up so now I’m out here enjoying how everything smells. The neighbor’s cat is sitting on the fence and looking at me. I like their cat. She doesn’t make me feel judged like a lot of other cats do. She just looks tired all the time, which I can relate to._

_Anyway, thank you so much for letting us come to your show!! I had a wonderful time. I hope I didn’t seem too nervous the whole time. You’re gonna say I’m not, but for you to let someone that’s just a fan hang out with your friend group for even only twenty minutes is something that I’ll never forget. Thank you for being so generous, and again, thank you for letting me love you._

_Key still hasn’t forgiven me for somehow not knowing that they didn’t know who their fave’s friends were, but they will soon, when they get bored of being mad. They wanted me to tell you thank you for paying for their muffin and saving them from dropping even more stuff out of their bag in front of Amber. They’ve given me a whole two dollars to mail to you with this, which I think might actually be illegal, but they’ll never let me rest until they know that they’ve paid you back, so. Here you go._

_I was listening to Blue Night yesterday too, by the way, and I really related to the the song you released. “Warm Winter.” It felt like a lot of people I’ve known in the past, and even a little bit like Key now. And I loved how simple and calm it was, and the tune was really nice. Thanks for sharing!!_

_I forgot the exact date, but I know you have a variety show filming soon, so good luck on that!!_

_Love, Lee Taemin ❤_

Taemin has a problem.

According to his revision history, this is his eighty-seventh edit of this letter and it’s the most obviously fake piece of shit he has ever read. Including those posts about how Ruby and Sapphire are “just friends.” He groans as he reads it over, one hand threaded through his hair and messing up the cute airbrushed style he spent ten minutes on earlier. He doesn’t know how his life has come to this.

“Something I’ll never forget,” he mumbles to himself. “Thank you for letting me love you.” He scoffs. What a fucking understatement. More like “being able to spend that time with you in a casual way let me have a glimpse of what it would be like to know you, really know you, to be with you on a regular basis and have you smile at me like you smiled at your real friends, and now that it’s over I feel even more empty and fucking  _desperate_ to be with you, so much that it feels like it hurts, so much that I literally lied in bed and cried for a good hour yesterday because I know it will never happen, and that was never a problem before but now it fucking is and I feel like even more trash because of that because it’s wrong for me to expect anything out of you and because I know I’m still just in love with an inflaed idea of you. It’s unfair to you and it’s unfair to me and please, please, just let me love you, please love me back, please let me be with you, please--”

Taemin groans in disgust and slaps his laptop shut. He can’t keep fucking doing this. He never should have gone to the show. He  _definitely_  never should have agreed to stop for snacks in the company’s little café with Jonghyun’s friends. He and Key could have just waited outside the building for the twenty minutes it took the bus to show up instead of spending that time laughing with Jonghyun over expensive cookies and fruity smoothies. They should have just left after those few minutes in the dressing room. It should’ve stayed as just a cool, quick little moment with his fave.

He would have left giddy and excited, wanting more but still satisfied with the time he got. With the extra time he spent talking with Jonghyun in the café, it let him relax from his initial high of meeting him face to face again and let him get used to being with him. It let him imagine, just for a short while, what it would be like to have that all the time, and when he had to leave, it was so much worse. He never thought he could have gotten more attached than he already was.

He keeps replaying the way Jonghyun looked at him, the wide smiles, the genuine conversation, the way he nudged Taemin’s arm when he reached across the table to playfully shove one of his friends. There was literally no romantic intent, no platonic intent, nothing more than a celebrity being nice for his fan, but Taemin can’t make his brain stop envisioning warm scenarios where Jonghyun holds his hand and hums him to sleep. Admittedly, they’re the same as the ones he’s thought of before, but this time, they have something deeper in them. Expressions taken from eyes right in front of him instead of eyes directed into a camera. A voice clear and unfiltered, straight from his mouth, pure and free from editing and mic static. Gestures and movements confirmed by direct, clear line of sight instead of half cut off by a camera shot.

Taemin sighs, lowering his head onto his laptop. It’s still warm and he rubs his cheek against it gently, closing his eyes and just listening to the sounds of his backyard. The wind rustling the leaves, the faint cars in the background, the soft pitter-patter of new rain starting to fall from the sky. After another few minutes, he sits back up and picks up his laptop. If it’s gonna rain again he shouldn’t be out here.

He opens his laptop back up once he’s at his kitchen table instead. He reads over what he has: the bit about his backyard and the cat, placed first to make it look like he wasn’t too eager to talk about the concert day. The fakest thanks he’s ever written in his life. The bit about Key that he blabbed for too long about to stop himself from gushing even more about how in love he is. The bit about the fucking song, the song that Taemin knows isn’t about him but feels in his soul like it is because he’s tricked himself into thinking his love for Jonghyun is in any way reciprocated. The note about Jonghyun’s next recording schedule, a complete fucking lie because Taemin knows exactly when and where and was desperately trying to get tickets. “Love, Taemin,” with a heart that he wishes could take up the whole page.

Next he glances through his revision history. Countless edits. Long explanations. Detailed reveals of his heart. An angry, half caps, largely typoed, aggressive rant about how this is all Jonghyun’s fault for leading Taemin on and allowing him to get close and overstepping his line as a celebrity and doing all of this shit when he knew it would just fuck Taemin up more. That one he wrote when he was feeling particularly emotional at two in the morning. He deleted it because he knows it’s not as simple as that, and also because he felt like it was a little mean.

After that he goes back to what his current letter is. After a sigh, he gets up and shuffles to his fridge. He has a whole pack of chocolates left over from his birthday presents a while ago. He’ll curl up on the couch with them and watch bad daytime television, and then write out the letter of lies when he’s done.

~

_Jonghyun_

_I’m sorry, I’m so sorry--please,_ please  _don’t read the other letter!! This will be priority mail and I really hope this got to you first._

_I didn’t mean to send the other letter. I wrote out two, the first one when I was a little tipsy on rum-filled chocolates and the second when I’d sobered up the next morning. I didn’t realize that I’d sent the wrong one until an hour after I got home from the store._

_This isn’t the right one either. I threw that one away because this whole fuckup has made me realize that I can’t keep up this contact with you. Not now, not for a while. I don’t know how long, but I can’t. I don’t want to make you feel guilty, but that concert was a bad idea. It really fucked me up. I wasn’t going to tell you but I have to. I’m sorry. It’s more me than you._

_I’ll send you another letter once I feel like I can handle it._

_Taemin ❤_

Taemin’s handwriting is considerably shittier than usual as he hunches over the counter at the post office and scribbles his return address on the envelope. He’s fucked, he’s so fucking  _fucked_ \--he can’t believe that he sent the wrong fucking letter. He can barely believe he _wrote_ it. He knew he should’ve stopped eating the chocolates once he realized they were actually liquor candies. That was the opposite of what he needed, to get half drunk on a Wednesday afternoon like his life wasn’t already fucked up enough already.

Someone else enters the little building and stands in the line behind him; he glances quickly at them and moves to the side so they can talk to the person behind the counter.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, keeping his eyes down. He hates this. He hates that he’s here, paying seven dollars for a fancy envelope, with his hair a mess, his car parked outside shittier than when he was learning to drive, not wearing a fucking binder, and not even sure if he’s writing his own name correctly because the anxiety burn behind his eyes is making everything kind of blurry, all because he spilled his entire fucking drunken heart out onto a piece of paper and dumped it into his mailbox by accident.

He finishes his address, then checks and double checks and triple checks Jonghyun’s address to the one he has saved on his phone. Then he takes his strawberry-scented envelope and opens it, takes out the letter he just wrote before he shot out of his house fifteen minutes ago, and makes sure that it’s the right one. He knows that it is; there is literally no other letter. Still, his shaky hands press the letter down flat so he can read and reread it just to make sure that it’s the right letter that he’s going to send.

When he stuffs it as carefully as his anxiety will allow back into the envelope, he immediately wants to rip it out again to check. He forces himself not to and instead grabs the priority envelope to check that  _that_ is the right one and didn’t somehow get switched to one with someone else’s address while he wasn’t looking. He doesn’t even lick the small envelope closed before he slips it into the cardboard one. He’d probably wind up cutting his tongue. Closing the big envelope, he looks up to see the person from before still speaking to the person behind the counter. Ugh.

He rocks on toes, taps his fingers on his envelope as quietly as possible, struggles to fix his hair from a blonde windblown mess to something actually manageable. It doesn’t work, but he does snap a plastic hair clip in the process from pulling it open too roughly. He sighs as he stuffs it into his pocket and pulls his phone out instead. His calming plant apps do nothing to soothe him and when the person finally leaves the counter he is in their place in less than a second.

“Hi, again, hi,” he says to the worker. “I’m finished.” He holds up his envelope and then tries not to jam it in their face when they hold out their hand for it. He opens his mouth to ask if they’re _sure_  that it’ll get to Jonghyun before the one he sent this morning, but stops himself. They already told him it would. He shouldn’t be a bother. And he doesn’t think he can make his voice say that many words in a row right now anyway. “Thank you, very much,” he says instead. He can’t even tell if his face is defaulting to a smile or not. He is so fucked up. “Sorry if I’m rushing you,” he adds, the guilt that always lingers inside of him pushing him to apologize for making someone do their job.

“Don’t worry about it,” the worker smiles at him. Taemin continues to worry about it. “It should get to its destination in one to three days.” One to three. That is less than a week. That is good. Taemin breathlessly thanks them again and leaves the office, fumbling for his car door handle and missing twice before he finally gets himself inside. There, he slouches in the seat and rubs his hands over his face. It’s going to be put in the express today. And then it’ll get to Jonghyun. And then Jonghyun will read it. And that will be the end.

Unless someone loses it. Or--the priority mail envelope is surrounding his strawberry-scented one. Maybe Jonghyun won’t notice that it’s from him until it’s too late. Or maybe he’ll read the original one anyway out of curiosity. Or maybe--maybe Taemin didn’t even put the right address even though he checked a hundred times--or--did he check? He doesn’t fucking remember. He groans, sliding even more down in his seat. He can’t live like this. He needs to stress eat. He wants mcnuggets.

He can’t drive, though; not when he’s so shaky like this. He sighs out a heavy breath and starts his car anyway. He’ll park further in the middle of the big lot of this little shopping center so he’s not in the way of anyone and call Key. They’re just staying at home today, he thinks. They can meet him here and bring food. They’ll sit with him in his car for an hour and listen to him worry. Yeah. Good. Okay.

It takes three tries to call Key because his fingers are shaking so badly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #rip in pieces taem  
> #he is ??? a mess  
> #key comes to sit with him in the parking lot and brings him nuggies and just lets taem shake and whine and melt about his problems  
> #and feels mildly guilty about not seeing this coming  
> #but they also pap taem up and take him to get his nails done and buy him ice cream and tell him hell get better eventually  
> #taem lies on the floor of his apartment and groans dramatically  
> #key also Immediately enters Mom Mode and is 100% critical of jong  
> #taem: hes so pretty : (  
> #key: hes average kinda mediocre u can do better  
> #taem: :/ thanks


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s one more; the last model for Key’s shoot today. Taemin should really try to learn the names of everyone he’s working on instead of just numbering them by where their clothes are, but whatever. He doesn’t have time for that, not when everything is making him feel so rushed.  
> [tumblr](http://katrinawritesthings.tumblr.com/post/171205089176/jonghyuntaemin-problematic-fave-part-34-pg)

_To: Taemin **  
**_

_Take all the time that you need._

_Jonghyun✨_

This stylist job really isn’t for him, Taemin thinks. He fans himself with his hand as he takes his armful of bracelets back to the accessory rack in the dressing room. It’s not that it’s too crowded; there are more people in this room that he’d like, but he can convince himself that they’re all just as busy as he is and not staring at him most of the time. And he doesn’t have to actually talk to the models he’s fixing up. They offer little words of thanks or small questions or sometimes cheery little jokes, all of which he can handle for the most part. It’s just that everything feels so… earth-shatteringly important.

He knows that it’s not really; all he has to do is give the models their accessories and make sure everything looks nice together. He’s not in charge of the makeup touchups between shoots, he doesn’t have to worry about the stylishly casual dishevelment of their clothes, he doesn’t have to meticulously style their hair, and people on the actual set give them touch ups anyway. It’s simple. A little rushed sometimes, but simple. Still, Taemin feels like the slightest fuckup will ruin the shoot and Key will be blamed for choosing to hire him and their growing fashion reputation that they’ve been building for months will be tarnished forever and it’ll all be Taemin’s fault and--

Taemin takes a deep, steadying breath as he sorts all of his little bracelets back in the right order. Chill. He needs to chill. That’s another thing that he doesn’t like about all of this. He can’t just take a minute to collect himself and shoo his anxiety away as best as possible. He has to keep moving and just let it build up inside of him. He knows that that’s not going to be good in the long run. Already he can tell that he’s a little bit behind and he grabs the next bunch of bracelets and the labeled necklaces to take back to the model. Thank fuck this one doesn’t need piercings too.

It’s only the third day since Key got him this job. He thinks he’s going to finish the week, maybe try one more, and then really decide if he can handle the stress that it brings. It’ll be hard telling Key he can’t do it, but he knows his friend won’t be mad. He gives the model a small smile through someone else applying a practised stroke of eyeliner to turn their classy outline into a playful cateye and passes them the bracelets. Slipping behind them, he loops the necklaces around their neck and ties them off at the right lengths. Switching positions with someone else that’s fussing over their hair, he fidgets with the chains and pearls, twitching them into a better position. He checks their wrists next, twisting the bangles so the colors look better, pushing one further up their arm and wiggling one off to put on their other wrist instead with an apologetic smile.

He’s the last to take his hands away from them. That alone gives him performance anxiety, but he takes a few spare moments after they leave while there’s no other model in here to fuss over and shakes out some of his nerves. He glances himself in the long mirror along the wall; his long red hair has gotten kind of messy. Frick. He steps closer to the mirror to fix up his bangs and the little ponytail at the back. He’s still clumsy with styling the longer strands, but he’s fallen in love with the length and the red and is glad that Key convinced him to change it a while back.

After a few moments he catches someone glancing at him in the mirror and hisses, leaving his reflection to scuttle to the clothes racks in the back. There’s one more; the last model for the shoot today. Taemin should really try to learn the names of everyone he’s working on instead of just numbering them by where their clothes are, but whatever. He doesn’t have time for that, not when everything is making him feel so rushed.

And by “rushed,” he means that even  _after_  eleven minutes of nothing, even after someone peeps in to tell them that their last model is a little late, even after Taemin actually gets a few minutes to chill and relax, he still feels like too much is happening. This really isn’t the right job for him. He’s sat himself in a chair in the corner, as secluded as he can get, and is taking slow sips from his mini water bottle when suddenly everyone starts bustling around again and he catches little snippets of conversation: “they’re here,” “finally,” “frick, okay, there they are.” Taemin stands up and grabs for the assortment of clip on earrings and rings that are for the model’s first set and promptly drops one just as the door is opening.

“Frick,” he mutters, and crouches down to pick it up. He hears the others grabbing their first outfit and the model apologizing as he fumbles on the floor.

“Sorry, I’m really sorry, there was traffic, and a baby bird fell out of the nest outside, and we just--”

“Hey, shush, shush, it’s okay, just, hurry, I’m gonna go explain to the director.”

“Right, sorry, yeah--” Taemin glances at what must be the model’s manager squeezing back through the door. Like Key’s gonna take any excuses to quell their annoyance. He straightens back up and counts to make sure that he has all of the right accessories as he scuttles across the room. The model’s back is to Taemin, someone helping them into a loose white dress shirt, and Taemin starts separating the rings from the earrings in his hand. Normally he would wait for more of their makeup to be done first, but they need to  _extra_  rush this time, since they’re already late.

The model pops the shirt over their shoulders, turns to let someone else fix it up right, and looks up; their eyes meet for a second and Taemin’s whole world just stops.

His heart picks up a staccato, his body sways, his temperature spikes. His feet start carrying him forward again before his vision even finishes it’s vibrant blur and before Jonghyun even finishes his doubletake.

He doesn’t look at Jonghyun’s face as he picks the clip on earrings out of his palm. He focuses solely on his ears while he’s too distracted by the makeup artist brushing bronzer along his cheekbones over the foundation he came in with. Four colorful rings on one side, six on the other, placed carefully and in a good color pattern, one that he knows Key loves. When Jonghyun closes his eyes to allow smokey eyeshadow on, Taemin does his best to keep his hands from shaking as he picks up one of Jonghyun’s to put the rings on. He was neutral about it before, but now he’s decided that he fucking hates Key’s obvious ring fetish. No one needs this many.

Jonghyun’s fingers are so warm.

He leaves immediately after he twists the last ring to look perfect, heads right back to the clothes rack to start organizing the stuff for Jonghyun’s next outfit. What the fuck. There are so many things wrong with what is happening right now. Why did Key not tell him, why did he not notice Jonghyun’s name on the clothes the whole time he was in here, why the  _fuck_  did he have to show up on the third day of the job that was finally supposed to keep Taemin busy enough to finish getting over him? He doesn’t deserve this.

And he fucking hates surprises; that’s probably what’s making this kick over from his regular anxiety to this super anxiety bullshit he has going on right now. He sneaks a peek up from behind the clothes. Jonghyun is sitting down now, fingers tapping restlessly on the countertop as he finishes getting his makeup done. Taemin grimaces and looks away. He’s so pretty.

He was  _almost_ over him. Like eighty percent, maybe seventy. He’d stopped weeping, stopped pining, stopped feeling that swoop of fifty different emotions all at once whenever he thought about him. Fuck, he’d even stopped thinking about him as much. He’d blacklisted his name and unfollowed him on everything. The first few weeks may or may have not been spent breaking his shit self-control and scrolling through pictures and videos at one in the morning, but after that, he’d been doing pretty well. Well enough that he was able to refollow an official fanblog, just for some updates, without being affected. He’d even started listening to some of his music again last month and was thinking about maybe following his twitter again soon. Slow steps, simple steps, to ease him back into his fave without feeling gross guilt and shame.

All of which has been immediately rendered completely useless due to the fact that Jonghyun has been thrust right back into his life with no warning in the most unavoidable way possible.

Taemin suddenly has to pee. Really badly.

“Hey,” he says, reaching out and tapping someone else that’s finished with their job of fixing Jonghyun up also. Eunsook, he thinks. She turns to him with the kind of questioning hum that says she’d really rather not be bothered right now, which Taemin completely understands, but he opens his mouth again anyway. “The bathroom is just two doors to the right, right?” he asks quietly. Eunsook lets out an incredulous, breathy noise.

_“Now?_ ” she asks. Taemin makes a whiny noise back.

“It’s an anxiety pee,” he hisses. “Like, one minute. Tops. I covered for you when you lost that headband yesterday.” He wasn’t planning on pulling that favor so quickly, or at all, but this is an emergency. Eunsook sighs and nods, gesturing towards the door.

“Two on the right and across the hall,” she says, and Taemin barely breathes out a quick “thanks” before he leaves her side. He just has to pee and then down some more water and maybe splash some in his face and then he should be fine. Fine enough to get through the next three outfit changes of Jonghyun’s before he’s done, at least. He reaches the door at the same time as someone else; looking up to apologize, he finds his breath leaving him again when he comes face to face with Jonghyun.

“Oh--sorry, here--”

“Oh my fucking god,” Taemin says, and squeezes himself through the door immediately after Jonghyun opens it. That was probably extremely rude. He doesn’t care at this point. He glances behind him when he reaches the bathroom door. Jonghyun is just turning the corner at the other end of the hallway, walking into the shoot. What are the odds. That little exchange was just the universe being a fucking asshole.

He lets himself back into the room feeling as refreshed as he’s going to just in time to hold the door open for one of the other models coming back from the shoot. This is the fourth to last, Taemin thinks, just here to change back into their normal clothes and leave. That’s simple and easy enough for him to do and will hopefully allow him time to clear his head of all of his emotions and work out a plan of action.

It doesn’t; Jonghyun comes back fifteen minutes later for a change and Taemin’s brain still stops him for a solid five seconds just from the mild surprise of seeing him again. So much for overcoming his hardships. Jonghyun walks in with the next model, so while he changes clothes and gets his makeup touched up, Taemin tends to them and helps them out of their stuff. He takes as much time as humanly possible without making it look like he’s trying, takes a deep, mostly steady breath, and grabs the few heavy chains for Jonghyun’s neck.

Jonghyun is sitting down still, clothes changed and with someone brushing a darker blush over his cheeks. Taemin doesn’t make eye contact as he takes all but two piercings off of his ears. He checks his phone to make sure of the details of how he’s supposed to style the necklaces, then slides himself behind him and loops the first around his neck. He manages to get the first one on fine, but his shaky anxiety hands aren’t helping him in the slightest. When the makeup artist finishes their work and steps aside to let Eunsook fix up Jonghyun’s hair, she bumps his elbow just slightly and it makes him drop the chain. The weight of the charm makes the whole necklace fall into Jonghyun’s lap and he curses, breathing turning uneven as Jonghyun makes a surprised little noise and reaches for it.

“Sorry,” he says as he takes it back. Now as he tries to clip it together his hands are even shakier than before. Eunsook throws him a worried glance as she places a bobby pin in Jonghyun’s hair.

“Still not okay, Tae?” she asks quietly, and Taemin feels his cheeks blushing pink. Fuck.

“Yeah, no, just,” he says, pausing for a moment to slowly, carefully, clasp the necklace together. “I just--I’m--I was--” He glances up at the mirror just in time to see Jonghyun switch his gaze from someone else to him. “I was a fan,” he mumbles, and sends a prayer of thanks up to the clouds that the third necklace has no clasp and he just has to fit it gently over Jonghyun’s head. After that and a few twitches to make sure all of the beads and charms are even, he backs away and retreats back to his corner and tries not to think about how he felt Jonghyun’s eyes on him for several seconds after he spoke.

Eunsook comes back to him after a few minutes, while he’s burying himself in his phone and aggressively trying to not text Key in the middle of their shoots. He’ll just whine at them extra hard later. He looks up when Eunsook leans up on the wall next to him with a questioning little hum.

“You know you can’t get distracted just because you’re working on someone you like,” she says. Taemin pouts. Her tone was more amused than stern, but still. Unfair.

“I know,” he says, “I just. He surprised me.” Also, technically he doesn’t like Jonghyun; he loves him and has been really fucked up about trying to get over it for months. But that’s besides the point. Eunsook tsks and reaches over to fix his shirt sleeve up evenly.

“Yeah, but you gotta hide that shit,” she says. “Otherwise it makes them feel weird.”

“I know,” Taemin mumbles again. “I’m gonna be better, like, the next time he comes in.” The last model before Jonghyun will return next to finish up, and then the next time the door opens it’ll be Jonghyun. Taemin knows this so he knows that it won’t be a surprise. He’ll be calm. He’ll be cool. He’ll be collected. He’ll probably still be shaky, but whatever. He’ll work through it.

“Are you sure about that?” Eunsook asks. “Because….” she trails off and Taemin follows her line of site to the next group of accessories lined up for Jonghyun. She pokes gently at a few rings. “These are lip rings,” she says, turning back to him with a cocked brow. Taemin feels his cheeks heating up pink.

“Damn it, Key,” he mutters. He sighs as Eunsook laughs at his troubles and pulls out his phone so he can figure out the exact right spots Key wants the rings so he can get them all perfect on the first try.

When Jonghyun does come back twenty minutes later, Taemin still has to psych himself up before he walks over there. Jonghyun’s makeup is the same except for a few touchups so he can’t take forever. After a few deep breaths and an unflattering gulp of his water he takes all of the fake piercings over to the counter.

“Hey,” he hums to catch Jonghyun’s attention. Jonghyun turns to him under someone else styling his hair up, big eyes, focused expression. Taemin takes another breath and hands him a thick white fake piercing. “That one’s a septum,” he says, letting Jonghyun wiggle it into his nose himself. “And, take off all the rings except the right thumb and the first two on your left, please.” He only keeps his eyes on Jonghyun’s long enough for him to nod that he understood. Then he takes the few eyebrow rings from his group and places them carefully, trying not to mess up his perfectly brushed brows, and then adds a couple fake piercings to his ears as well. When he reaches the last little group of rings he sighs again.

“Lip piercings next,” he tells Jonghyun, fully aware of how the person styling his hair has finished. He thinks maybe he fucked up the timing on this. Jonghyun lets him tilt his chin up with the slightest touch of his fingers and Taemin does his best to get the rings on as quickly as possible. He’s refusing to look into Jonghyun’s eyes, but that means he’s super focused on his lips, which probably isn’t isn't better. As soon as he gets the sixth ring on and in the perfect position he backs away, slips behind Jonghyun instead, takes off the two clasp necklaces, and tucks the third into his low-cut shirt. “Okay, good luck,” he mumbles. He backs away into his corner of shame, fighting with his own thoughts that everyone in the room was staring at them.

Eunsook gives him an amused little look when Taemin glances back to see someone fixing Jonghyun’s jacket up and ushering him out of the door. He huffs and very pointedly ignores her, instead focusing on putting all of the rings back in their right places to be cleaned later. That was fine. That was totally okay. He put the rings on, then left. He didn’t spend five hours creepily staring at Jonghyun, didn’t touch him more than he needed too, didn’t show anything other than slightly nervous professionalism. Jonghyun didn’t show anything other than polite compliance and gratitude for his work.

Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if Jonghyun didn’t even recognize him. It’s been months, his hair is a whole new color, he’s wearing different earrings than the last time Jonghyun saw him, he has a tan now because it’s summer… totally different. Jonghyun doesn’t remember every fan he’s ever met. He’s a busy dude. The odds of Jonghyun remembering a mess like him are just. Astronomical.

That’s what he tells himself the next time Jonghyun comes in, anyway, as he takes all of the accessories back and just gives him one bracelet for the final shoot. He doesn’t remember him at all. The quick, distracted, “thanks Taemin” he said when Taemin handed him the bracelet was only because he heard Eunsook say half of his name earlier. He also totally doesn’t remember or recognize Key directing the shoot, because Key is completely ordinary and average and not a unique experience of a person at all, so there’s no reason for him to link them to Taemin.

Taemin groans softly to himself as he slumps back in his chair. This is so fucked up. Now he’s going to be thinking about Jonghyun thinking about him and having fond memories and worrying about how strange he was acting and being invested in him and--

He grimaces, sighs internally, presses his palms into his eyes. He doesn’t need this. He doesn’t need to be thrown all the way back to his second month problems during his sixth month. He watches Jonghyun leave the room a few minutes later miserably.

And after another amount of minutes, he pulls out his phone and types out a very composed and collected text (“what!!!!! the!!!!! fuck!!!!!”) to send to Key literally as soon as Jonghyun walks back into the dressing room. He is not waiting any longer than he has to after the shoot ends for Key to answer him.

Key doesn’t reply for a solid seventeen minutes and forty-three seconds after Jonghyun comes back; ten minutes after Jonghyun leaves and in the middle of Taemin helping some of the other stylists clean up for the day. Taemin reaches for his phone, hesitates, almost grabs it, and then makes a pained noise in his throat before ignoring it to finish helping with this one rack of clothes at least. Once he’s done with that he recedes back to his corner chair and hunches over his phone. There are seven texts now, full size; Taemin scrolls passed all of them to get to the “tl;dr” that Key always leaves at the end of their long messages.

“Tl;dr: i know, i'm sorry, i meant to tell you but i forgot, i’ll buy you breakfast for a week, i’m sorry,” it says. Taemin scowls. Sorry doesn’t help that it already happened. He sends a very unamused face back and runs his fingers through his hair. They catch at the hair tie and he hisses, then takes it out and clumsily reties it.

His phone vibrates with another text: “Just wait there like usual okay?? i’ll come get you when i’m done.” Taemin sighs. Okay. Alright. Fine. He’ll stay here while the room slowly empties around him as people go home until he’s the only one, alone with his thoughts of how thick Jonghyun’s fingers were. Key usually takes at least an hour to finish up all of their director shit. Taemin stays in the dressing room because he’d rather not wander around aimlessly in front of everyone else. He needs the alone time to wind down after being so cramped and social during these shifts anyway.

He pouts at his phone for the next fifteen minutes until everyone leaves, and then he turns off the big lights and invites himself to sit on the long counter in front of the mirrors. Tugging his bag into his lap, he first pulls out the blanket he keeps in there and uses it as a pillow against the hard wall. Then he pulls out his phone charger and plugs it in at both ends, opening up a game app that he usually uses to distract himself from the sad turns his life likes to take.

It helps, a little bit; it keeps him occupied until he loses. Every time that happens he has to take a minute for a new game to load and that time just lets him think again about Jonghyun. He sighs ever more often as his attention keeps lessening with each loss, until he has to tap out of the app and switch to another one. At the very least, now he doesn’t think he’s as mayday about the whole thing anymore. The shock has worn off again and now he’s just lukewarm and disappointed. He taps his little plants in the app gently, watching them sway and flutter in the wind, willing them to take his mind off of it.

He zones out for a little bit and finds himself imagining Jonghyun coming through the door. He thinks of Jonghyun finding him, murmuring a gentle hello, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear, tilting his chin up just slightly with a sweet smile. He would ask if he could join Taemin on the counter, then pull himself up, slip his arm around Taemin’s shoulders, and rest their heads together, soft and warm and comforting. He’d sing “Warm Winter” and press a tiny kiss to Taemin’s temple as he let Taemin doze off on him, not even caring how long they sat there….

Taemin shakes himself out of his fantasies. No. What the fuck. This is the exact opposite of what he needs to be doing. He feels a painful tug in his heart, not the forceful yank it used to be, but still there, still noticeable, still recognizable. It makes him swallow thickly and lift his hand to run his fingers through his hair. He does not need to start crying right now from some weird mix of regret, loneliness, and desperation. His hand catches in his hair tie again and he sighs, pulling it out and just letting his hair fall where it wants. He looks back to his phone and opens up a new app that will hopefully carry him over for the next twenty minutes or so.

It does, kind of; his hands are still a little shaky when the door to the dressing room finally opens but he thinks he’s feeling much better and calmer. He clicks his phone asleep and looks up to greet Key tiredly.

Instead, he’s met with Jonghyun again, walking in with a little frown and furrowed brows as he looks around.

Taemin freezes, his phone falling into his lap, his insides screaming very loudly as his outsides just stare at Jonghyun as he peers into the corners of the dimly lit room.

“Where,” he mumbles to himself, stepping forward to look at the little counter that Taemin is sitting on. “Ooh--” His face lights up in a smile as he notices something in the corner opposite of Taemin. Taemin watches, still stunned, as Jonghyun hops forward and snatches up a scarf that he must have forgotten in here half an hour ago. “Nice,” Jonghyun grins, slipping it around his neck. He glances in the mirror to fix it up nice and even, winks at himself, turns towards the door, starts walking, and then pauses to do a doubletake when he passes Taemin.

Jonghyun stares blankly at him; Taemin stares blankly back, eyes wide, heart thudding so loud in his chest that he doesn’t know how Jonghyun didn’t hear it before.

“Hi,” his mouth whispers for him.

“Hey,” Jonghyun says quietly back. He hesitates, lifts his hand to fluff the undercut at the back of his head. His hair is a light brown now, and freshly cut into the familiar undercut. Taemin knew he changed it from the light platinum but it still almost feels strange to see the mundane color on him. “How are you--are you--you doing okay?” Jonghyun asks. “Since before, I mean,” he adds. He bites his lip and waves his other hand awkwardly to signify what Taemin assumes is the whole letter fiasco. His cheeks heat up with the memories and emotions but he nods, fingers twisting anxiously in his shirt hem.

“Yeah, um,” he says. “I’ve been getting--I’m doing good.” He grimaces as he changes what he was going to say mid sentence. He doesn’t want to say he’s  _getting better._ He doesn’t want Jonghyun to know he’s still been all hecked up about it when it’s been, like, six months. By the way Jonghyun sighs and rubs his neck, Taemin can tell that he hasn’t fooled him.

“I know I messed up,” Jonghyun tells him. He looks at the counter next to Taemin instead of him awkwardly. “It was a bad idea for both of us,” he says, “because it was really overstepping my line and inappropriate of me to ask you to come like that, and. It was way too personal for you, and. Bluh.” He shakes his head, meets Taemin’s eyes until Taemin looks away. “I’ve been wanting to apologize this whole time, but I know it’s not my place and that you didn't want to hear from me, so.” He shrugs in a helpless way. Taemin bites his lip, staring at his twiddling fingers.

He doesn’t… well, he _does_  know what he wants to say, but. He doesn’t know where to start. That acknowledgement and apology was nice, but Taemin can’t remember why exactly it was. No matter how many times he’s imagined this conversation in his head to explain his emotions to himself, he wasn’t prepared at all for it to ever actually happen. He doesn’t know how to explain his emotions to Jonghyun. At least the shock of this seems to have numbed the alarm part of his anxiety. Now he’s just a little shaky and a little hot all over instead of tight-chested and sweaty and super muffled in two senses.

“I’ve been… listening, to some of your stuff again, lately,” he finds himself saying quietly. He looks up shyly to see Jonghyun gripping his scarf with a little awkward hand. “And… about No More… the one you did for Ye--for Lim Kim?” He corrects himself halfway through because he figures random fans should use stage names instead of real names for celebrities. Jonghyun nods, looking like he’s completely ready to hear a critique of a song in the middle of a dark dressing room in some random studio. Taemin rubs his hand over his shoulder slowly.

“I, um,” he says. “I read it as, like an aro song. Because, um, before I knew what aro was I would do the same thing, like.” He wiggles his hand halfheartedly as some lyrics come to mind. Being uninvested in romance, only doing romantic things because he thought he was supposed to, not feeling any butterflies or anything about his dates… parts of the song didn’t really match, but those parts really did. “I thought I was just not as invested as I should be in romantic relationships,” he says. “And that I was a bad person or something, for not caring, but… no, I was just aro, and.” He shrugs. He knows Jonghyun didn’t write it to be an aro song, but he still likes it and it still makes him feel better on the inside. “It really spoke to me. I’m glad you wrote it.” He shrugs again and looks up higher to Jonghyun’s face.

“Thank you,” Jonghyun says quietly. “I’m always glad when people find comfort in my songs.” Taemin nods. He knows. Jonghyun’s said that a bunch of times before in interviews and shit.

It’s quiet after that, a loud, heavy quiet that Taemin can feel pushing down on his soul. Jonghyun shifts his weight, no doubt debating if he should leave or not, and Taemin stares at his hands, trying to hurry up and make himself say something he hasn’t rehearsed. He’s not going to tell Jonghyun everything. He knows that he’s not. He doesn’t even have everything figured out for himself yet--but, still. He has thought about it a lot. His nails tap together quietly in his lap as he takes a slow breath. When he looks up, it’s to rest his head on the wall behind him and stare blearily into the dim lights above the counter.

“I think…” he says slowly. In both corners of his eyes, in the mirror and in the room, he sees Jonghyun perk up to listen. “If I ever do start writing to you again…,” because honestly, he probably will, because writing to Jonghyun was pretty good venting and also just a lot of fun, “I think… I want you to stop replying?”

He lolls his head to the side to look at Jonghyun again at that. Jonghyun looks back, nibbling on his thumbnail in that cute way that he does when he’s thinking. He nods quietly and Taemin nods back.

“Because,” he mumbles, even though Jonghyun didn’t ask for an explanation. “You’re a human, and you’re a celeb, and I’m a human and I’m a fan, and that’s all it ever should be, and…. Not that you writing back to me was _bad_ , really, because you were always just nice and professional and platonic, and I’m sure you write back to some of your other fans too and that’s fine, but…. It’s too much for me?” He looks back at his hands, then grimaces at how many times he’s done that and shifts so he can sit and face Jonghyun with his legs dangling off of the counter. If he’s already having a mild panic attack then there’s no harm in making it slightly worse just so he can say these important things face to face.

Jonghyun looks genuinely concerned with a little pout on his thick lips and that adorable little scrunch between his big eyes and fuckity fuck, this was a bad idea. Taemin blinks quickly and adjusts his eyes to look at the little mole between Jonghyun’s collarbones instead. That’s just as adorable and lovely but much less personal and distressing. Fuck he’s so pretty.

“Uh--um,” he stammers. His heart thuds in his chest so he closes his eyes and takes a few moments to steady his breathing.

“Take your time,” Jonghyun says gently. Taemin nods, gripping the edge of the counter to lessen his shaky hands. He kinda suddenly needs to pee again, but he ignores it.

“Um,” he says again. “Like. Because--well, first of all, because you  _won't,_  like. You literally won’t, you’re not into someone that knows more about you than you do and you’re not some fucked up asshole that gets off on people willing to do anything for--oh--” He hisses sharply, lifting his hand to cover his mouth. “Frick, sorry,” he says quickly as Jonghyun tilts his head in confusion. “I forgot you don’t like swearing, sorry.” He was just talking and letting words come out of his brain. He’s not so sure they were even making sense, but he still didn’t mean to swear.

“Uh, no?” Jonghyun says. His face is all scrunched up in a confused little look. “I’m fine with swearing?” he says. “It’s okay, I don’t mind.” Taemin blinks at him.

“But,” he says. “In 2011, when you were on that one radio show--Sukira maybe? But it might have just been at KBS--and you were wearing that cute zigzag beanie, and you said--” He stops himself, bites his lip and looks down when Jonghyun looks more and more lost at everything that he’s saying. Taemin shakes his head, running his hand through his hair and resting it on the back of his head. Fuck. “God, see, this is what I’m talking about,” he mumbles. That’s exactly his problem.

“I mean,” Jonghyun says. “I might not have liked it back then, but now I’m good, so--”

“No, I meant,” Taemin says, and then shakes his head. “How do I say this,” he mumbles. He’s fucking thought about it enough over the past six months; one would figure he’d know exactly what to say and how to say it. Maybe he should start writing shit down even if it’s not in a letter to Jonghyun. Like a diary or something. That would probably help.

“It’s not… wrong… for me to be so much in love with you,” he says. His cheeks heat up at that admission even though he knows that during the whole time he was supposed to be getting over Jonghyun he never really fell out of love with him. He was more working on being able to love Jonghyun without feeling gross about it, despite Key’s constant disapproval. With his eyes still on Jonghyun’s scarf, he sees him nod. “But,” he says. “The you… that I’m in love with… and the you that… you  _are._ ” He gestures a little to the empty space next to Jonghyun, and then at Jonghyun, both hands wiggling a little for emphasis. “Are honestly… two different people.”

“And I knew that, I knew that the whole time,” he continues, scrunching his nose and shaking his head. “I knew that the you I was in love with was just, like, your stage persona and just a list of a bunch of little quirks and traits and pinpointed moments of your life from five years ago that you don’t even remember.” He  _knew_  that. He’d said it enough times in his letters. He was never fooling himself. Well. In the beginning, at least, but near the end…. “The back and forth letters,” he says, “and the concert, and the hanging out with you, like… blurred the line? For me.”

Jonghyun is still watching him quietly, just listening, just nodding politely along to the things he’s saying. Taemin tries not to think of how he recognizes the look from the countless hours he’s watched him listen to people on his radio show. The validation is nice, he guesses; that Jonghyun looks the same listening to him as he does to other artists that he, like, respects and cares about.

“And, um,” he mumbles. “It was like--like--all of the stuff I’d built up about Jonghyun the celebrity was suddenly, like, merged? With Jonghyun the human, and. I kept… feeling, like, attached, like. My brain couldn’t separate the two anymore, and thought we were like super close or something, or that I actually had a chance, and--it--it fucked me up, basically, is what--what I’m trying to. To say. And. Just. Yeah.” He finishes quickly, shaking his hands and his head before he starts stammering and fumbling his words even worse. Heck.

There’s a lot more he had to say. Stuff about seeing Jonghyun as a celeb and a thing to have instead of a celeb and a human being with boundaries and an identity, stuff about how it’s not good for Taemin personally to have such intense emotions about it, stuff about how it’s kinda disrespectful to Jonghyun to think of him that way, stuff about how even if he was an actual friend of Jonghyun’s like his fansite owners he would still be just a fan friend, stuff about how Key keeps trying to get Taemin to feel angry emotions towards Jonghyun but Taemin just doesn’t wanna use up the energy needed to do that… a lot of stuff. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to get all of that out anymore. What he said was good enough. Maybe he’ll say the rest in a letter.

“Sorry,” he says quietly after he takes a few steadying breaths. “You didn’t ask for me to dump all of that on you.” He feels bad about that too. Jonghyun was ready to just leave him alone five minutes ago and then Taemin went and blabbed his soul out.

“No, it’s fine,” Jonghyun says earnestly. He waves his hands--one is still clinging to his scarf so it waves too. Taemin feels a familiarly fond tug in his heart at how cute that shit is and looks away before he gets all blushy again. Then he looks back so Jonghyun can say more things. “I don’t, um,” Jonghyun says. “I wanna help but I don’t know what to say? Like, to reassure you, or, I don’t know, I can say something really gross so you wanna cut me out? Or, if saying nothing would be bet-”

“Nonono, no,” Taemin says quickly. It’s his turn to wave his hands and shake his head so much his hair falls into his eyes. No. God no. Fuck. “You don’t have to do anything,” he says. “I just.” He pauses for another few moments to breathe and figure out what he wants to say this time. “Just,” he says. “I don’t want you ruined in my mind, or anything, just, like. Rose-tinted and unattainable. Like before.” He shrugs weakly. He just wants to go back to having a fave. “And I’ve been working on that fine on my own, so.” He twists his hands together nervously in his lap. “Just… if I ever do start sending you letters again, just don’t reply?”

Jonghyun is silent after he speaks. Taemin nibbles on his lip, rubs his arms, pushes his hair out of his face, and finally looks up before his anxiety burns a hole in the back of his head. Jonghyun is looking down, nibbling his thumbnail again, but he looks up a few seconds after Taemin does and nods.

“Okay,” he says. “If that’s what you say will help, then yeah, of course.” He gives Taemin this soft, warm, gentle smile that almost makes Taemin melt.

“You’re so… fucking pretty,” he breathes, and then immediately puts his face in his hands and groans loudly. Fuck. What the fuck did his mouth do that for. “Sorry,” he grumbles. Jonghyun’s soft chuckle makes him feel all melty again.

“It’s fine,” he says. Taemin peeps at him and sees just the smug, confident little grin he was expecting. Of course. He loves a dude that loves praise. “Um,” Jonghyun says next, face turning almost serious again. “So--I guess--I’ll leave first? You were gonna stay here, right?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” Taemin says. He nods, feels his hair fall into his face again, sighs, and fumbles in his pocket for his hair tie. “I’m just waiting for Key,” he says. Jonghyun snorts.

“Yeah, they are not pleased with me,” he mutters. Taemin feels the first smile he’s felt since he got here come up on his lips, an amused little smirk. He bets Key has a lot of things to say about Jonghyun that definitely aren’t just about him being late. He wiggles off of the counter when he can’t find his hair tie, turning to frown at the surface. It’s near the back, slightly squished from where he was sitting on it. As he grabs it, he hears a sharp hiss and a loud “oh!” from Jonghyun. Turning around, he finds him turned towards the door but already halfway turning back to face Taemin.

With him standing up like this, when Jonghyun turns back, they’re almost face to face. Taemin blinks, feels his heart thud, takes half a step back and bumps into the counter. Heck.

“By the way,” Jonghyun says. He lifts his hand to scratch the side of his head, seemingly not bothered by or even noticing their close proximity. His cologne is a much more obvious scent this nearby. “Um. I’m sorry,” he says softly. Taemin blinks. Oh.

“Don’t be,” he says. “You don’t have to--”

“No, I mean, like--” Jonghyun shakes his head, scrunching his nose. “For today, I mean,” he clarifies. “For being late and causing you and everyone else trouble.” He gestures vaguely around the dim dressing room. He’s still wearing some of the makeup from the shoot and up close like this, Taemin can see every faint speck of glitter in his dark lipstick. “It was irresponsible and rude,” Jonghyun says. He’s all business, all professional, a mature, humble apology for something that he did wrong.

Taemin just looks at him--gorgeous and sweet and confident and caring and all of these things--and swallows thickly as months of more emotions than he knew he was suppressing come surging back into his chest. He doesn’t know why it was that statement that brought all of this feeling back into him. He doesn’t know why it was anything special at all. He  _definitely_  doesn’t know what the  _fuck_  his brain was thinking in the few seconds between Jonghyun saying that and him taking his next action. All he knows is that one moment he’s standing there and in the next he’s leaning forward and pressing his mouth to Jonghyun’s.

And before he even realizes that this is a kiss, that this is his lips touching Jonghyun’s lips, that this is a thing that he’s doing, his heart is thudding in his chest and his stomach feels fluttery and his whole body seems light and refreshed as the fact enters his brain that Jonghyun is kissing him back.

Softly, chastely, his lips move against Taemin’s, slow and smooth, in what feels like a lifetime of Taemin’s soul finding a secret portal to Heaven right in his own body. Then, suddenly, in what barely feels like half a moment since it started, as Taemin lifts his hands to hold onto Jonghyun’s jacket, Jonghyun’s hands block him by gently catching his wrists.

He holds Taemin firmly, pulls away, takes a step back by the time Taemin’s eyes flutter open.

“Enough,” he says quietly. There’s no anger, no annoyance, no anything negative in his expression; just fondness and a hint of a smirk. Taemin swallows thickly, the sudden realization of what he just did all rushing back in on him as if to fill the empty space where Jonghyun just was a moment ago.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he whispers, mortified.

“It’s okay,” Jonghyun says.

“I love you,” Taemin says next, his mouth apparently just as jumbled up as his brain. Jonghyun chuckles and lets go of his wrists. Taemin stays where he is.

“I know,” Jonghyun says. He takes another few steps back, fixes his scarf, and waves with a little hand. “Bye,” he smiles, turning and walking to the door. He pulls it open, slips outside, lets it shut gently behind him, and just like that, Taemin is alone again, alone in this dark room with himself and his emotions.

He lifts his fingers to gently touch his bottom lip.

It feels all tingly, or maybe that’s just his whole body and soul and existence. A shaky little smile pulls up the corners of his mouth.

“Hoooooly shit,” he whispers.

He thinks he’ll go out and find Key.

With wiggly little leggies he walks himself to the door. Pushing it open weakly, he totters down the hall, feeling tipsy with love even as his mind clears up. That was. Nice. That was soooo…. nice. So very, very, very--

“Taem.”

“Hmm? Oh.” Taemin blinks up at Key suddenly in front of him, hands on their hips, stern little frown. They must have been just coming from the set. “Hi Keytty,” he says. He’s not sure, but he thinks his voice might be a dreamy hum of a noise.

“Was that Jonghyun I just saw leave the dressing room before you?” Key asks. In contrast, their voice is sharp, eyes narrowed, hand firm as they push Taemin’s bangs out of his eyes. “What was he doing in there? Did he talk to you?” Taemin lazily lifts his hand to pap onto Key’s wrist, to hold it and rub their hand gently between both of his.

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “And then I kissed him.”

“And he  _let_ you?!” is Key’s indignant reply, but Taemin barely hears him. The reality of what he just said and did is finally starting to hit him, he thinks. He kissed Jonghyun and it was soft and warm and wonderful and short and sweet and finite and honestly… everything he needed. His cheeks heat up in a comfortingly familiar flush as he hides his wide smile in his hands. Holy heck, Jonghyun is so lovely.

“Key,” he mumbles, speaking over Key’s huffed curses and grumbles and insults and whatever else. He slides his hand up to slip his arm around Key’s neck and nuzzle their shoulder. “Don’t ruin this for me,” he smiles into their neck. “This is the best day of my life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #anyway taem is so fluttery and warm and soft and gay and he lovs his fave  
> #kibum is still grumpy and pissy bc a kiss is Inappropriate but taem shooshes him like it was Fine trust me  
> #key trusts him but theyre still grumpy  
> #they were so deep into their whole Making Taem Feel Better thing and now they cant do it anymore but it was so fun  
> #this was before she is when jong always looked v warm and had brown hair and was a soft noodle  
> #good content  
> #anyway taem just : )))))))))))) and flutters about jonghyun  
> #he doesnt Throw himself immediately back into everything  
> #but he does ease himself back into the music and the blogs and starts catching up  
> #and being rly uwu and smiley and happy  
> #hes still anxious and hecked up about it but hes doing way better  
> #taekey: chillin sittin on the floor havin a good time  
> #taem: smiles and lies down and rolls to his tum and kicks his feeties  
> #key: sighhhhhhh did u remember the kiss again  
> #taem: : )))))))) yeah  
> #Also eunsook talks to taem like dont get me wrong i think youre cute and everything but im mostly just being nice to u to get mx k to notice  
> #and taems like lmao if u want keytty to like u just talk about how much u like amber  
> #and eunsookies like :0!!!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He still has to ask Key what their favorite song is, too. He’s fairly certain that it’s “White T-Shirt,” but it might also be “Orbit,” because “Orbit” is exactly the kind of gay shit Key is into, even if it is a little slow.  
> [tumblr](http://katrinawritesthings.tumblr.com/post/171454867357/jonghyuntaemin-problematic-fave-part-44-pg)

_Jonghyun, **  
**_

_Hey!! Taeminnie again. I’m on my couch writing this, all snuggly in blankies because Spring still hasn’t made up her mind and it’s raining pretty hard outside. I do love the rain, but I prefer to experience through a window rather than in the middle of it. I’m watching Key’s little pups while they’re at work so they’re up here with me. Key doesn’t like them on the couch but they’re really really warm and what Key doesn’t know won’t hurt them. I’ll send a pic for you to see!_

_Speaking of Key, they told me that they saw you coming out of a recording studio as they were going in the other day. Honestly, at this point, I think their feelings towards you are more complicated than mine ever were. They’re still mad at you in defense of me from nine months ago, but I think that’s mostly out of spite because I told them that they couldn’t stay mad forever. They also lowkey want to book you again for another shoot, really love your little line of accessories, and are extremely bitter that they like more than three songs on your She Is album. They won’t admit it, but ??????fuck i forgot??????? is their favorite song._

_As for me, I think I’ve finally come to a conclusion for my favorite. I know, it’s been, like, three weeks, and I’ve cycled through all of them being my favorite (except “Moon,” and I’ve already explained what was wrong with that one), but I’m serious now. I really think that I like “Dress Up” the most. It feels weird to say that, seeing as how I always liked your softer songs the most, but I can’t deny that “Dress Up” is fun to jam to._

_I wanted to tell you again that this comeback of yours has been so good and healing for me. The fun songs, the bright colors, the inherent and blatant queerness of everything, your pink hair…. All of it makes me feel bright and fuzzy on the inside. Before, your stuff would cheer me up just by being gentle and uplifting, but now it cheers me up by making me feel all excited and bouncy and validated. So, thanks for that!_

_Thank you for letting me love you, too. I know I say it a lot, but it’s just nice to have a fave to think of and love and feel all fuzzy about again. Maybe I’ll get a real romantic datefriend one day and be able to be super gay with them, or maybe I’ll friend marry Key and get all of my emotional fulfillment from that, but until then, it’s nice to draw comfort from you. Thanks for letting me and, really, all of your fans do that. I know it’s kind of part of the job description of being an celeb, but still. It means a lot to a lot of us that you put so much of yourself out there and act as support for us, even from afar._

_This is getting kind of long, so I’ll stop here. I know this week is your last week of promotions, so good luck on all of your music shows and I hope you’re having a nice day!!_

_Love, Lee Taemin ❤_

_P.S.: If you ever see Key again and they try to give you two dollars, just take it and pretend like you know what it’s for._

Taemin hums to himself as he reads his letter over. That’s a pretty good first draft, he thinks, and he’s pretty sure that his opinion isn’t affected at all by how he’s hanging half upside-down off of the couch and squinting at it on his phone.

Key’s little pupps snooze gently, one in his lap and one nuzzled against his leg. Taemin scrunches his nose. Hmm. Maybe he won’t send Jonghyun a picture of his lower half, even if there are cute dogs in it. That would be kind of weird, he thinks. Maybe he can get Key to–oh, no, he’ll have to scoot them off of the couch before Key comes to pick them up so he doesn’t get in trouble. Dang.

He still has to ask Key what their favorite song is, too. He’s fairly certain that it’s “White T-Shirt,” but it might also be “Orbit,” because “Orbit” is exactly the kind of gay shit Key is into, even if it is a little slow.

Taemin’s left eye scrunches when he reads over the little paragraph about his favorite song. Every time he thinks about “Moon” he feels all gross inside and he should really stop thinking about it, but he just. Wants to passive aggressively remind Jonghyun that it was gross at least one more time in his letters. After this one he’ll start working on forgetting it exists. At least it helps him keep his love for Jonghyun grounded.

“Dress Up,” though. “Dress Up” is _good._

The whole  _comeback_  is good, and as Temin scans his letter he feels himself warming up inside all over again. A smile cracks open his face, cheeks flushing as pink as Jonghyun’s lovely, lovely, lovely hair. It’s so nice and fun and bouncy and–

“Fuck,” Taemin hisses. He was turning halfway over to smile into his carpet and his legs slipped off of the couch. He crumples gracelessly, grunting softly as he struggles to get his hands under him and push himself up. “God, fuck,” he mutters. Pushing his bangs out of his face, he leans against his couch to just blink for a moment and let the blood rush out of his brain and into the rest of him.

Key’s little pups whine and snuffle at him, Garcons’s wet little nose booping his temple. Taemin leans away, then lifts a hand to pet their soft little heads.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he tells them. “Mwah.” He kissies Garcons’s little head when he keeps nuzzling at him. The press of his lips seems to calm the pup and Taemin vaguely wonders if that has anything to do with the way Key pulls themself out of anxiety attacks with a million little kissies to who or whatever is nearby. Probably.

Instead of trying to clamber back onto the couch, he slowly slides himself the rest of the way off and rolls to lie on his tummy. Tugging a pillow down from the couch, he holds it under his chin as he finds his phone again. A pup hops down from the couch and wiggles to curl up on his butt; glancing over his shoulder, he finds Comme Des. He lazily reaches behind himself to give him a little pat before he looks back to his phone to finish scanning his letter.

Blah blah blah, blah blah dogs, Key blah blah, songs blah, the comeback makes Taemin’s soul feel alive, blah blah… aha. Taemin reads over the next paragraph with his top lip between his teeth. Hmm. Feels a little repetitive in places. He’ll work on that. The P.S. he has to work on too; he wants it to be in the actual letter and not a P.S. He’ll figure out how to add it in without making it seem too bulky or whatever. Besides that, though….

“I think this is good,” Taemin hums to himself. He lifts the phone up to Garcons on the couch so he can see. “What do you think?” he asks. The little pup sniffs his hand and then licks him. Taemin assumes that means “yes” and gives Garcons a little scritch behind his ears. Then he rolls to his back–apologizing again for disturbing Comme Des and letting him snuggle up under his arm instead–and taps his letter to edit it.

Honestly, he missed how fun this was; just sitting here and editing out his thoughts and feelings. Thinking them over and figuring out exactly what he wants to say is so… calming. Even his first letter back where he sent, like, three pages detailing his entire emotional response to everything was soothing. Since he started writing to Jonghyun again his anxiety has been better than it has in months and he’s been able to reason his worries away almost as well as he could before he even got all hecked up in the first place. He thinks he might start up a diary anyway, in addition to his almost-weekly letters to Jonghyun. It might get him back to where he started.

As he’s deleting a word in the third paragraph, his phone vibrates in his hand with a text from Key. He hums. Now would be a good time to ask about their favorite song, yeah, before he forgets again. He opens the texts of the day and scans them quickly: “good morning egghead,” “I’ll bring you a muffin when I drop the kids off,” “do you think thick stripes or thin stripes look better in plaid,” “one of these days I’m gonna say something important and you’re gonna regret letting my texts pile up,” and “wow okay I know I just said that as a joke but I can not Fucking believe this and u gotta reply rn or I’m gonna call you!!!”

“Hmm,” Taemin hums again. He scrunches his face in confusion. What. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Key use any punctuation in a text, let alone three whole exclamation points. He sits up, resting one elbow on the couch so he can focus better on his phone as he texts back, “Thick stripes and also what’s your favorite song of Jonghyun’s again and also What???”

Taemin isn’t sure if it’s the immediateness of Key’s reply or the contents of it that makes him drop his phone. Either way, he hisses and scrambles to pick it up and confirm that what he thinks he saw is really is what he thought he saw.

It is: Key sent him a picture of them with Jonghyun, like, right next to each other, taking a selfie, together, Key looking huffy and annoyed and Jonghyun smiling gently with one hand kind of blurry in a little wave.

Taemin can’t fucking believe it, either.

“Ohmhy fuc k ign gdo,” he texts back. He is so upset and jealous. What the fuck. This is so unfair. It’s not even that Key is with Jonghyun and he isn’t, or that Key doesn’t appreciate Jonghyun’s loveliness, or even that he’s so far up Jonghyun’s ass again that it burns him up on the inside to not be there; it’s that that morning Key literally offered to take him to work with them and he declined. It’s his own dang fault that he isn’t blushing and smiling and hiding behind Key’s arm with his heart making him all giddy right now.

“I went to a radio station to grab a friend to hang out with and he was here and he says hi,” Key texts him next. Taemin groans quietly and wilts back down to the floor, texting back a single frowny face. Then he throws his arm dramatically over his eyes and whines again. Heck. Hecking fuck. He does not believe. Lifting his arm just enough to see his text, he types “Tell him i’m in the middle of writing a letter to him.”

“I’m not playing back and forth between u two jfc,” is Key’s reply. Taemin huffs, then sighs. Yeah, that’s kind of what he figured they would say. “listen tho he’s trying to give me a free album bc I guess that’s a thing that singers do but I don’t want it so do u want me to tell him to just sign it to you instead,” Key sends next. Taemin gasps this time, suddenly all excited again. He sits up quickly, then grunts and lies back down, pressing his hand to his forehead under his bangs to fight the sudden wooziness. Whoops. Key’s pups nuzzle and whine at him; Taemin doesn’t know if it’s from worry or annoyance at his constant movement.

“Yes pls,” he texts back, and then scoops both dogs up in his arms to snuggle them under his chin. With two soft little fuzzballs against him and the prospect of a bright, shiny, new, signed album coming his way soon, Taemin feels his inside get all warm and fuzzy again very quickly. He’s never been more sure of anything in his life than the fact that he loves his fave and he loves being able to love him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #taems just : (((((((((((((( bc jonghyun is there and he is not   
> #key gets the album tho and tells jong hes gross but also asks jong to come back for another photoshoot   
> #taem Just Happens to visit that photoshoot   
> #and is v : )))))))))   
> #he only talks to jong a lil bit and doesnt get all fucked up   
> #and is Incredibly Relieved about that lmao   
> #jong says sorry again also and its all good all around

**Author's Note:**

> #listen..... this is important  
> #if ur wondering why this takes place during base its bc thats just how Heckin old this au is  
> #jong is sooooo sweet and lovely and taem is sooooo weak and gay  
> #the real golden au is au where jonghyun can be Out  
> #thats the good timeline and we are stuck in a doomed one  
> #key being taems bff is also important  
> #hes not rly an Idol in this tbh more of a soft soloist that does his own stuff at his own pace  
> #but hes popular enough to be on Big Shows nd everything


End file.
